


Frostbite

by HissHex



Series: Indulgant Lukas Fiction [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Sad sea times with pre-sea captain Peter, a brief mention via a letter of Nathaniel being quite mean to Peter, a prequel to my lonelyeyes fic, and when i say he is a littol babby I mean he is 16, he is but a littol babby here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26835493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HissHex/pseuds/HissHex
Summary: A teenage Peter recieves a gift and goes on a little journey.
Series: Indulgant Lukas Fiction [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957456
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Frostbite

The grounds of Moorland house were wreathed in fog, it almost always had been for as long as Peter could remember. He quietly picked his way across the courtyard, along the long lonely road that led to the family home, passing by the graveyard where each and every one of his ancestors lay.    
  
Dinner had passed a mere half-hour before he had set out, giving Peter plenty of time to get some distance between himself and his family before anyone would notice he was gone. Not that they would care but sometimes they would make some vague attempts at keeping up appearances by trying to find him.    
  
The walk to the nearest town, or at least one that had a train station, was long and Peter grumbled at the lack of cars passing by, his usual trick of hitchhiking his way into town ruined. His heavy boots thudded against the road surface, crunching through the snow. His thick coat, stolen from a wayward uncle a few years back, tucked around him tightly to ward off the spring chill.    
  
The walk was long and dull and cold and quiet and Peter  _ loved it _ . No family to please or strangers who try to talk, to bond and connect. As if he wanted to talk to any of them. The only sound was the whistling of wind through the leafless trees, the only light was that of the moon, no streetlights for a number of miles.    
  
Peter eventually trudged into town and then straight into the train station, only just managing to catch the last train out.    
  
He gave another mental grumble at the lack of a ride.    
  
At this time of night, and especially on a train going  _ towards _ London rather than away, there was practically no one else on the train. It was a small train, no First Class here though Peter wasn’t going to waste the money he stole from his mother’s purse on that kind of luxury even if he could. The train rumbled and clanked towards the capital, one older lady looked over at Peter in concern and wandered over, no doubt thinking to ask if he was ok, to ask if his parents knew where he was as if they had ever cared. He glared at her harsh enough for her to stumble back to her seat.    
  
His favourite thing about going through London, Peter thought as he made his way across the city to the next train station on his journey, was that despite it being packed with people, no one actually tried to talk to you. Surrounded by people and yet still so lonely, it was perfect and yet it was still not the end of his journey. Unfortunately he had missed the last train out, leaving him to wander aimlessly around London until the very very late sleeper train pulled into the station.    
  
Settling down onto his last train, Peter fiddled with the small key he had found in this coat the other night. It had never been there before and the coat itself had stayed in Peter’s room. But still the key had appeared as well as a map of a beachside town with a little red circle marking a place along the top of the beach. Peter had spent most of the past few days in the family library, deciphering where exactly the map led to. His family had never seen him spend so much time in what they thought was study. He lay back, planning to get at least a few hours sleep in before he arrived, it now being past midnight.    
  
Peter jerked awake at a touch to his upper arm, the train attendant looking quite alarmed at his almost violent reaction. The train had arrived. 

The town was quiet in the early morning, the fishing boats still out at sea and Peter found he quite enjoyed the rocky beach when there was no one else out. The crunch of the rocks as he made his way to the shoreline, kicking rocks away as he walked. Most of the snow was gone on the beach as well, too much salt build up from the sea he supposed. He dropped down onto the stones, sitting just far enough away from the water that when it rushed up the beach it only lapped at the bottom of his boots.    
  
He loved the rush of the waves and the coolness of the fog of the early morning, the occasional squawk of seagulls overhead. Even the fishermen as they tugged their boats in didn’t pay much more attention than to give him an odd look, he loved that they were so exhausted they barely talked to each other as well. He watched the boats come in as the sun rose over the horizon.    
  
Eventually, even he could not ignore the cold forever. He brushed himself off and made his way down the beach towards where the map was leading him.    
  
The black hut was tall and the key stuck for a moment in the lock before he opened the door. While the outside was clean, someone no doubt paid to clean it, the inside was dusty. No one had been in here for quite some time though there was a single crisp letter on the sideboard, addressed to him.    
  
He considered ignoring it for a moment but he would at least found out who broke into his room to deposit the key.    
  
  
_ Peter, _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I have been told by your tutors that you show some interest in the ocean. Since you show a lack of any real academic capability, I have arranged for you to spend some time working on one of our ships this summer. We will find some way for you to serve our Patron, even if you cannot follow your cousin into working with our current projects.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ We have owned this cabin for longer than I at least have been alive and we have found little use for it. It was bought by our ancestor Mordechai which is the only reason we have not sold it off. I give you the key in the hopes that you will get some use out of it.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Nathaniel  
  
_

  
Peter was uncomfortable at the idea that his tutors knew  _ anything _ about him, let alone enough to tell his uncle about it. But as far as gifts go, it was one of the better ones he had ever been given (excluding the  _ definitely cursed _ ship in a bottle that Simon Fairchild had given him the year before). There was no way he was going to clean this place himself, but it shouldn’t be too hard to pay someone to clean it up a little. He could let them in, go exploring and then come back when they are done, Peter was quite pleased with his plan.    
  
He lay out his coat on the bed and collapsed onto it, looking up at the dark wooden rafters. A place abandoned for so long, the dated remnants of a time well spent here. The little black hut was steeped in the history of his family, from the crest above the door to a bottle of what looked like his grandfather’s favourite whiskey tucked behind the sofa. But unlike Moorland house with its ever-present weight of expectations, this place seemed so much more free like he was beholden to no-one.  
  
He fell asleep quickly, the last thing he saw as he turned over to face the wall, was an eye scratched deep into the wood.  _   
_

**Author's Note:**

> Note: “Beholden” hehehe. And then he brings his Beholding husband there 30-ish years later.


End file.
